One visit to Grindhaus is not enough, by Katherine Rivard

Whenever my boyfriend rattled off ideas about where to eat in Red Hook, he always suggested Grindhaus as a potential option. I was never tempted. The name, Grindhaus, conjured up images of either a fratty biergarten or some kind of German dungeon. That all changed recently after we walked down Van Brunt and decided to give it a try.

Grindhaus, which opened in 2014, has the welcoming sidewalk appeal of many other restaurants in Brooklyn — a cute wooden door, a big front window, and some dangly lights. But everything else sets Grindhaus apart. I found myself transfixed by the motley décor, which leaves all conventional standards behind—from the zebra print ceiling to bountiful displays of fake flowers. The eclectic mix of paintings and wall hangings only intensify the feeling that whoever decorated the place was not trying to follow any typical design standards. This playful nonchalance comes through in both the service and the food itself.

As we entered the restaurant, we were immediately greeted and seated by a friendly waiter in t-shirt and jeans. Throughout the meal, he provided helpful suggestions for what to order. Going beyond “A lot of people like this…,” he made suggestions based on how hungry we were and how he personally approaches the menu. From around the corner, we could see the chef busily preparing dishes, but that did not stop him from taking moments to thank guests as they left or to say hi to regulars.

The revolving menu consists of seasonal American food with heavy splashes of Asian influence. After being told that the roasted koji cauliflower was a lighter option, we opted for squash dumps—crispy pierogi-shaped dumplings filled with smoked honeynut squash, and drizzled with tahini, coconut broth, and Szechuan oil. On a cold fall day, they were the perfect starter.

For the main course, we split a chicken sandwich and the duck & waffle. I rarely say no to fried chicken in any of its forms (Korean fried chicken, schnitzel, Buffalo wings, etc). Nevertheless, my belief that fried chicken will always be mouthwatering has led me astray numerous times. This was not the case at Grindhaus. The sandwich was a succulent breast of buttermilk fried chicken, smothered with a special sauce and pickles, all atop a house made bun. It was paired with a side of chunky fries and flavored mayo that had me dunking every single bite of fry into the mayo while exclaiming “What is that flavor?!” (Spoiler—it was nori.)

Meanwhile, I’d snickered at my boyfriend’s decision to order the duck & waffle, but soon realized that—just as I had been too quick to pass on a restaurant with the word “grind” in its name—I had overlooked one of the most unique offerings on the menu. The meat was perfectly tender, and the dish was far more complex than any order of traditional chicken and waffles: it was just slightly sweet, with an extra spice from the sweet chili brown butter, and perfectly autumn-ized with the addition of fried sage. It took every ounce of my willpower to turn down the miso panna cotta for dessert, though I later regretted my decision after seeing some Yelp reviews claiming it was the pièce de résistance.

Other menu items I look forward to trying (if they’re still on the menu) include Parker Haus rolls (with mushroom mousse and mac powder!), an atomic wedge (with lardons!), crispy lamb noodles (with basil oil!), brussels sprout fried rice (with bonito flakes!), and a whole roasted fish (with hijiki!). The drink list is thoughtfully curated, with clever little descriptions of each. Overall, I left with a curiosity about all the other flavors I had yet to uncover.

New Yorkers are a privileged bunch. Even for restaurants I’ve loved, I rarely re-visit, knowing that there is an endless supply of delicious spots to try. With Grindhaus, I left wondering how soon I could return to try other dishes and who I would pick to share the experience with. Next time it will be me adding Grindhaus, quite forcefully, to the list of potential Red Hook dinner options.

A Star-Revue Contributor